


Ignition

by yosparky



Category: South Park
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 09:38:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4661826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yosparky/pseuds/yosparky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stan likes Kyle's hair, among other things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ignition

When Kyle takes off his hat in front of Stan these days it feels more weirdly intimate than watching him undress completely. Not that they’ve done much of the second thing yet – or much of anything – but so Stan imagines. Getting to see Kyle’s hair is rare and Stan sometimes worries about how into it he is, although it’s not like it makes him appreciate the rest of Kyle any less. 

He and Kyle, who have always basically been together, have also been together-together for a while now. Really it feels as though Stan should be keeping some kind of record with dates and times and specific agreements reached, at least so he’ll be able to remember anniversaries and stuff, but at the same time it feels like they’ve been doing this forever. 

It’s hard to know what counts as the actual start of this thing anyway. Should he be marking it from the first time they kissed, sloppy and drunk, Kyle shoving him up against a bolted bathroom door at someone’s eighteenth birthday party, both of them blissfully oblivious to the increasingly urgent knocks and shouts from the lengthening queue outside? Or from a week or so later when, in sober discomfort, they’d discovered that they hadn’t just individually hallucinated that kiss and they should probably talk about it and then maybe get drunk again and talk about it some more? Or should he be marking it from the first time he and Kyle even looked at each other, because sometimes it feels as though it’s been that long and that ridiculously predestined?

Anyway, nine times out of ten when they’ve made out since then, Kyle’s kept that hat pulled down tight over his hair, even though Stan’s told him enough times how good he looks without it. It’s a confidence thing, Stan guesses, and of course Stan can always recognise these things without having the first clue what to do about them other than just keep telling Kyle how awesome he is, which he does, all the time, like it’s part of his job.

Outside this room the house is empty for once and it’s the middle of winter – it always feels like the middle of winter, somehow – but he and Kyle, still fully-dressed, are warm enough to keep out the cold. It’s only in the relatively uncommon privacy of evenings like this, both of them curled up in Stan’s bedroom for long enough to be comfortable being this close, that Stan can ask to be indulged without expecting refusal. 

Kyle finishes his beer, tosses the empty can somewhere in the direction of the door and rests his head on Stan’s shoulder like an unspoken invitation. He lets Stan slip his hat off all at once, lets his hair spill free before Kyle can change his mind. Kyle sits up and shakes his curls into some semblance of order and smiles as he watches Stan lean over to put the hat on the nightstand with this stupid sort of automatic reverence, like he’s placing a crown on a velvet cushion or something. 

Turning back to Kyle, Stan tangles one hand in his hair and with his other arm around him pulls them into what he thinks of as (and has started to insist on calling) an embrace – he thinks it’s more romantic, more grown-up than just hugging – and Kyle rolls his eyes at Stan as he _embraces_ him back but he doesn’t stop smiling. 

When he’s got his best friend – boyfriend, whatever – wrapped in his arms like this, Stan wants the passage of time to stop, so sometimes he pretends it has. He holds his breath and tunes out the tick of the clock on the wall and concentrates on the way he’s twining a strand of Kyle’s hair around his index finger. It’s gotten dark outside, beyond the room’s drawn curtains, and in here there’s only the dim yellow circle of light cast by the lamp on the desk to let him see how gorgeously those red-gold curls fall around Kyle’s intense green eyes, the way they soften the sharp points of his cheekbones. 

When he’s had enough of playing with Kyle’s hair, for now at least, Stan brings his thumb to rest at Kyle’s mouth. He watches Kyle press his lips to the pad for a second before his teeth are digging in, quick and sharp, teasing, his eyes still locked with Stan’s.

“Ow! What are you – ”

Kyle wraps both his hands around Stan’s, holding it still. “So that I can kiss it better, dude.”

He does, wickedly, opening his plush pink lips and then closing them over Stan’s thumb, dragging the tip of his tongue up it all heavy and wet and warm, looking up from under his fringe and smiling at how quickly, how instinctively, Stan’s eyes go dark and wide. 

He gets his other hand to Kyle’s shoulder and pushes him down on his back, his curls falling in a copper halo against the grubby dark blue of Stan’s bedspread, and Kyle gasps and then sighs and then moans when Stan replaces his hand with his mouth, slides his knee in hard between Kyle’s, brings their bodies together and makes Kyle buck his hips and grind against Stan’s thigh. Kyle says _fuck_ and _yeah_ and _oh my god Stan_ and then he shuts his eyes, his speech dissolving into these broken-off words and breathy little noises that Stan can never get enough of hearing. When they kiss again he clutches onto Stan’s shirt with both hands. 

Whole minutes pass like this, the world narrowed to the circle of their arms around each other, to the heat of their mouths and palms. When they come up for air Stan can feel Kyle’s dick is stupidly hard through the fabric of his jeans and it’s like they can’t keep their mouths more than a breath apart for more than a second.

They have all the time in the world, Stan thinks, but at the same time he’s on the brink of giving in to a certain urgency. He lifts his head and breathes in deep and brushes a strand of Kyle’s hair back from his face.

“Dude, are we doing this?”

Kyle looks up at him and gives a quick, decisive smile, his fingers already at Stan’s belt-buckle.

“Yeah dude, we are.”

Stan tips Kyle’s chin up and his head back, watching his eyes fall shut, and time stops, for a while. Over and over again he sinks his fingers in the richness of Kyle’s hair, with a look on his face like he’s discovered buried treasure.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. This is my first try writing Stan/Kyle, I hope it's not terrible.


End file.
